Ouroboros
by whowhatsitwhich
Summary: if an event occurred that suggested or somebody told you that... we'd known each other in other lifetimes... always... wouldn't it have changed some of the ways we looked at one another?-Fox Mulder, The Field Where I Died


Ouroboros

"_Only love can be divided endlessly and still not diminish." ― Anne Morrow Lindbergh_

The morning sun beats down, restless and relentless, bringing misery and damnation to the trodden battlefield. The fighting is done and the victors have begun to claim their spoils. For some, they won't live to see another sunrise. For others, they wish they hadn't lived to see the dawn of this day, these blood drenched, unending hours that have become a hell on earth for those left behind.

He pulls off his helmet and runs a hand through sweat drenched curls. Sickened by the sight, he can only sigh as tired blue eyes survey the butcher's yard below. It didn't have to come to this. There had still been room for compromise but thirst for vengeance and wounded pride left little room for gentler emotions. Cooler heads had not prevailed and the result was laid out before him.

His sword had spilled the blood of countless good men whose only crime was choosing to follow a madman who promised glory in exchange for their lives. He fought and bled, meting out death like some avenging angel. Those that died on his blade were given as much mercy as could be found. He wept for those who met their end by his hand. Alone in his tent with shaking hands and wavering breath, he prayed that their souls found the peace that had abandoned them in life.

He watched as the horde descended, picking through the dead for what scraps could be salvaged. Weapons were the first to go, followed by boots and armor, twine, medicine, and anything else deemed useful. Nothing was overlooked. Pale, pallid flesh was left to rot and nourish the soil whose thirst had already been quenched by a rain of blood. So much loss. So much pain. It hurt him to see it and know that he played a part. His heart wept even as it beat out a comforting rhythm in his chest. He had survived.

A sudden flurry of activity caught his eye. He gathered up the reins and swung into the saddle, already urging his mount into a trot before he'd settled in fully. Crude laughter broke the silence, harsh and coarse to the ear. Commoners stood in a loose circle, chuckling and urging an unseen person on. He moved swiftly toward them, standing in his stirrups to gain a better view. A small, reedy man held another smaller figure in his arms, hands wound tight in ebony strands. The smaller of the two struggled mightily but gained nothing for their trouble except more taunts from the onlookers. The mantle and undershirt were ripped away, baring tender flesh to unkind eyes. The wrist thick rope of hair swung free as her captor drew back a fist and cuffed her stoutly. Her muffled moan of pain fired his blood.

Before he fully understood what was happening, he had ridden into their midst, a tightly clenched fist meeting flesh with a resounding thud. Mist gray eyes looked at him fearfully as he extended a hand. He nodded encouragingly, and it seemed to be enough. She took his proffered hand, and settled in behind him as he made for the edge of the field.

"You have nothing to fear," he murmured. "I'm taking you to my tent where you can rest. No one will bother you there."

"What will you do with me?" She asked shakily. "Are you going to keep me with you?"

He half turned in the saddle, blue eyes steady and sure on her face. "I will make sure you're safe. That's all. I'm not like them. I will see you home or to any place of your choosing. All you have to do is ask."

"I have no home," she confided. "It was destroyed, my house burned, the fields sown with salt. I have no life here anymore."

"Then we will find you another," his eyes didn't waver from hers. "You will be safe, lady, as safe as I can manage."

He never got to hear her reply. The arrow entered his side, finding the tender spot under his arm left bare and open because he'd turned to face her. Her scream of denial rang in his ears as he slid boneless to the ground, his hand still outstretched. She swiftly dismounted, taking his head in her lap and sobbing as she sought to staunch the crimson flow. He smiled in reassurance, voice breaking as he attempted to comfort her. "You are lovely," he whispered. "Far too beautiful for such an ugly place."

His breath shuddered and rasped, his blood warm and slick under her fingers. "Stay with me," she pleaded. "Don't leave me here alone."

He faltered, feeling darkness sweeping in to pull him down. Still, he couldn't bear the fear flickering in her eyes. He felt himself slipping, leaving but he caught her hand and pressed a kiss into her palm. "I'll stay. Here. Always." His voice broke on the last word, a wet cough shredding his throat. "Tell me your name."

"Katniss," she mumbled, tears making wet tracks down dusky cheeks. "I'm Katniss."

"Katniss," he sighed, eyes sliding shut. "I won't leave you. I promise."

Xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo xoxoxoxoxoxoxo

The bombs fell continuously for four days. Buildings reduced to rubble and ash as the enemy unleashed their fury. Most thought they would never again see the light of day. Many prayed, offering up all manner of promises for one more chance to see the sun.

Katniss Everdeen huddled in the basement with her sister and tried to stay calm. She couldn't afford to panic because Prim needed her to be strong. Every blast sounded like thunderclaps, the earth heaving beneath their feet. The acrid tang of smoke mixed and mingled with spent adrenaline, stale sweat, and the bitter hint of fear. Four long days and nights huddled in the dark like rats.

"When will it stop?" Prim asked tearfully, her thin limbs quaking within Katniss's loose grasp. "Are we going to die?"

"No," Katniss whispered fiercely. "We're not. We're going to get out of here and we're going to survive. Do you hear me, Prim. Don't give up. Don't ever give up."

She pulled the girl more tightly against her and rocked her as she had when Prim was a child. Her voice, rough and ragged, warmed slowly to the song as she tried to take the girl's mind off of what was happening above. She felt more than saw her sister relax against her, breath slowing and deepening as Prim fell into sleep. Katniss continued to hum, to rock, to breathe reassurance into rumpled blonde strands. She had no business making a promise she couldn't keep, but there was nothing else to be done. She let her own eyes slide shut, lulled by the drowsy warmth of her sister and the soothing thump-thud of her own heart beating in her ears. She never woke up again.

The soldiers tasked with clearing the rubble could only watch in horror as each new atrocity was revealed. Some of those recovered left only scraps to mark their passing. Others were miraculously untouched. It was a heart wrenching task that most shied away from. The heart can only accept so much suffering before it breaks. For one, today was that day.

Peeta Mellark pushed shards of shattered brick and plaster aside as he worked his way deeper into the remains of the shelter. Thirty people had died here after a wayward bomb detonated in the apartment building above. His eyes caught and held on a small alcove. He moved toward it, a strange feeling of sorrow overtaking him with each hesitant step. He maneuvered around a collapsed beam and knelt, tears pricking his eyes.

She was huddled around a tiny form, sheltering the girl with her body. They were protected from the blast wave but from the debris that resulted. His fingers found the bloody knot on the back of her head and hovered over the visible evidence of the blow that took her life. Her dark hair was matted with sweat and blood but still beautiful. He brushed her cheek with a regretful finger. He wished he could have known her before the war. He wished they could have had a chance. He withdrew a piece of chalk and scrawled his initials on the wall above her head. He gave her one last lingering look before turning away with a strange sense of loss.

Xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox oxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

She met him on the pier at his request. She liked that he found out-of-the-way places for their trysts. While he was the epitome of everything a girl could want, she tended to leave a bitter taste in the mouth of the respectable people who crossed her path. Her long tresses twined with flowers and flowing skirts spoke readily of her refusal to bend to society. She wanted to be free. She wanted to see the world and take it on her own terms. She considered herself something of a rebel and this boy played a large part in that view.

Shy, steady Peeta Mellark with his tousled curls and big blue eyes was the first boy to approach her with something resembling respect. Most took her outward appearance as a signpost of loose behavior and questionable morals. She snorted at their disdain, preferring to turn a blind eye to the sideways glances and shifting feet. Their problems weren't hers. She was here because he wanted her, end of story.

She smiled a greeting and watched as a pink flush stained his cheeks. "I thought we were past this," she said playfully. "You should know by now that there's nothing to be embarrassed about. We're not doing anything wrong, Peeta."

"You don't know the effect you have, Katniss." He mumbled. "I can't help how I feel."

"You don't have to," she whispered, sliding languidly into his willing embrace. "You can do and be whatever you want. Soon, everyone will see that the only way to end this stupid war is for people to stop and listen. There has to be common ground. We just have to find it."

He shifted uncomfortably in her arms, drawing a confused look as he backed away. "What is it?" She asked carefully. "Peeta, is something wrong?"

He brandished a small card, the high color leaving his cheeks pale and drawn as he turned the piece of pasteboard over to display his name, birthdate, and social security number along with a date just a few days away. "No," she breathed. "That's impossible."

"I've been drafted, Katniss," he confirmed. "I leave at the end of the week."

"No," she repeated loudly. "No, Peeta, no. You can't go. You don't belong there, not you. You can't."

"I don't have a choice," he argued. "They called me up, Katniss. I wanted to tell you as soon as possible because I wanted to spend as much time with you as possible."

She blew out a breath, her mind working furiously. "We can leave tonight, go north to Canada," she exclaimed. "They can't touch us there. We could be together like we planned."

He shook his head before she finished hands gentle as he tilted her chin up so that he could see her tear-stained face. "I can't," he said gently. "I won't."

"Then you die," she stated harshly, pulling out of his grasp.

"I'll come back to you," he reiterated. "I promise you that."

She deftly avoided his hands, her eyes scornful as they raked over him. "You can't promise me that and you can't expect me to wait here while you throw your life away for a cause you don't believe in." She turned on her heel and stalked away, avoiding his anguished gaze. At the end of the pier, she turned back to him with tears streaming silently down her face. "I can't wait for you, Peeta. I can't handle not knowing if you're hungry or cold or dead…or worse. I can't lose you too. I've lost too much already."

Three months went by. Three months with no letters, no news. She bitterly regretted that she hadn't kissed him before leaving him that day on the pier. He seldom left her thoughts as she scoured the newspapers each night, praying that she wouldn't find his name.

The store on the corner had a display filled with televisions where she could watch the news. It was a popular gathering spot at certain times of the day. She managed to get in the front row and waited impatiently with the others until the screens flickered and Caesar Flickerman's practiced smile beamed out at them from seven different screens. The usual random videos played behind the man as he read off the daily statistics. Katniss listened with half an ear as her gaze locked on the video being shown. There was something familiar about the boy occupying the screen…the length of his back, the width of his shoulders, the blonde curls that clung damply to his neck. He half-turned, his profile achingly familiar to her tear-reddened eyes. She smiled and flattened her fingers against the glass. He was alive and safe. That's all that mattered.

They didn't see the telltale mound of a submerged landmine. He laughed at something another of the boys said off-screen. His blue eyes danced with familiar humor, lips curled up in an appreciative smile. First came the smoke, then the flames and last the screams. His screams as his blood splashed the camera lens. She cried out, echoing him as her fingers raked the glass. She didn't feel hands grabbing her, holding her up as her knees gave way. She didn't hear the voices spilling out panicked questions. She registered nothing but that last glimpse of him right before the bombs went off, that winsome smile that went all the way to his eyes. She sank to the cold concrete, beating her fists bloody as she sobbed out his name. He was gone and she had watched him die. Nothing would ever be good again.

Xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

They married in spring beneath a blooming apple tree. The bride held a bouquet of dandelions and wore a gown of simple lace. Her dark hair, wavy from her habitual braid, fell in waves down her back. Her gray eyes were alive with love and life as she gazed raptly at her blue-eyed husband.

"What are you looking at?" He inquired playfully. "You're acting like you've never seen me before."

"I haven't," she whispered. "I feel like this is the first time for us, Peeta. There have been so many missed chances. I don't want to waste a second."

He gathered her in, tucking her head into its usual spot beneath his chin as his hands slid soothingly up and down her back. "I've known you since we were five years old, Katniss. I've been yours since you sang at music assembly in kindergarten. We haven't had any missed chances, love. We've always been together and we always will be. Nothing can change that."

She edged closer, closing her eyes as she soaked up his warmth and closeness. "Promise me that it will always be like this," she murmured. "I need hear you say it. I need to know it's real."

He loosened his arms and cupped her face, tilting her chin up until their gazes locked. "I'm not going anywhere, Katniss. Nothing and nobody will ever come between us."

Her breath left on a sigh as she relaxed against him. "I know," she whispered. "I just wanted to be sure."

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_"…At times I almost dream_

_I, too, have spent a life the sages' way,_

_And tread once more familiar paths. Perchance_

_I perished in an arrogant self-reliance_

_Ages ago; and in that act, a prayer_

_For one more chance went up so earnest, so_

_Instinct with better light let in by death,_

_That life was blotted out-not so completely_

_But scattered wrecks enough of it remain,_

_Dim memories, as now, when once more seems_

_The goal in sight again…" Robert Browning Paracelsus_

It ends…..thanks for reading.


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